


My Heart Will Lead Me There Soon

by verger_de_pommiers



Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Awkward Family Dinners, Becca has a crush, Bucky Barnes is a worry wart, Kissing, Love Confessions, M/M, Misunderstandings, Pre-Captain America: The First Avenger, Pre-Serum Steve Rogers, Steve is bull-headed
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-29
Updated: 2019-05-29
Packaged: 2020-03-29 09:12:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,492
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19016875
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/verger_de_pommiers/pseuds/verger_de_pommiers
Summary: ‘I know she can be a bit of a grump,’ said her mother, tearing off a piece of bread to mop up her gravy.‘Oh no,’ Steve said, then paused, glancing up at Bucky. ‘She’s just honest.’ Rebecca watched her brother’s eyes widen and the blood disappear from his cheeks.





	My Heart Will Lead Me There Soon

The sun was glaring in through the freshly cleaned window, water droplets still not dry glittering like diamonds and casting little white stars across the counter. Mrs Rabonovitz dusted her hands off on her apron and was about to turn and start on taking the leftover bread down from the shelves, ready to parcel up and disperse amongst the homeless living on Charlotte Street and Birch Avenue.

She stopped when she saw the peculiar behaviour happening outside the shop. It was the Barnes boy, James, whom everybody seemed to call Bucky. She watched as James walked towards the door, lifted his hand to the handle, and then hesitated before letting his hand drop by his side. He glanced upwards and then turned on his heels and started back down the road. Then he turned quickly and marched back to the door and lifted his hand again. This time, Mrs Rabonovitz followed his gaze and saw that he was looking at her shop boy, Steven Rogers. Steven was currently organising a display of apples and hadn’t noticed the Barnes boy who still had his hand raised above the door handle. Steven mostly painted the signs for the shop, but when he wasn’t laid up with sickness he insisted on doing the more physical tasks. He had his bottom lip between his teeth, deep in concentration.

Mrs Rabonovitz turned her gaze back to James, who had now turned again and was heading back down the street, but her eyes were drawn to Steven as a gasp left his mouth and he looked upwards. She watched his eyes follow the boy and then slam back down to the apples he had been moving about to make an eye-catching triangle of reds amid a square of greens. His eyes snapped upwards again and then he was moving towards the door. He stopped, reaching for the handle, then glanced down at his feet. Then he went back to his place by the display. It was then that Mrs Rabonovitz felt a smile tug its way onto her mouth. A snort was brewing. She tried her best to keep it down.

Once again, Steven left his post, and once again he returned. His face was a burning red and his eyes were glowing. His eyebrows were drawn downwards and his mouth was set into a determined line. But still he remained by the apples and did not make for the door again. Mrs Rabonovitz shook her head. The silliness of boys.

 

The apples were going all over the place. He couldn’t keep his hands steady. He huffed the blonde hair out of his burning face and tried only to think of the display, the feel of the cool apple skin beneath his hand and the smell of bread and the light coming through the windows as Autumn began to truly set in. It was a Saturday, and tonight the Barneses would be having their traditional family dinner before church on Sunday. Steve was invited. He’d promised that he would go. His eyes glanced to the door where Bucky had been standing a moment ago. He huffed. He tried to focus on the tune Mrs Rabonovitz was singing, tried tapping his feet to it, though Mrs Rabonovitz was not the best at keeping time.

Oh hell, he wasn’t one to run from a fight.

When the door slammed open a family of pigeons, who had been snacking on the breadcrumbs made by eager customers, were shocked into flurrying up into the sky, almost flying right into Steve who had shocked them so and who was now marching down Charlotte Street. He couldn’t see Bucky, but Bucky had always been faster than him and in any case they lived in the same place. Bucky couldn’t avoid him forever.

It was a busy afternoon and a lot of people were getting in his way. He got his foot caught on a raggedy newspaper somebody had dropped and he kicked it into the road. He was shoved, as always, by some big burly fellow, smacked round the face by a rather tall woman and her snake-skinned handbag, and he had to apologise profusely to a little girl when he accidentally caused her to let go of her balloon.

‘I…I’m so so sorry ma’am.’

She stared up at him with big brown eyes.

‘My balloon,’ she said. ‘It’s gone.’

He could only nod.

‘It is,’ he managed, when the silence had gotten too much. ‘H-how can I repay you?’

She shook her head.

‘There’s no way,’ she said, and walked on. He stared into the distance and then shook his head. He kept on marching. When their building appeared, he instinctually picked up the pace and now he was really angry, mouth set in a hard line, because walking with purpose really gave a boost to his own sense of justice, which always fuelled his anger.

When he reached their grotty looking building, he started to take the stairs two at a time, until his lungs began to protest, and then he went back to the regular, one at a time ascension. Damned stairs.

He opened the door as quick as he could so that Bucky would not have time to hide. Bucky turned round and dropped his hands, which must have been in his hair going by the state of it. His eyes were very wide. Steve forgot everything that he was going to say.

‘Well!’ he shouted, just to shout something. Bucky looked queasy, all nervous, and like he’d been chewing on his lips, because they were very, very red. Steve tore his eyes away from them and stared angrily at Bucky’s eyes.

‘What,’ Bucky finally said, tossing his hand out.

Steve took a step forwards and Bucky took one back, which annoyed Steve to no end.

‘Well…whatddya gotta say huh?’

Silence drifted down like dust and settled. They stood very still. Bucky looked confused, which also annoyed Steve.

‘I saw you at the shop,’ he explained. ‘You wanna say somethin’, so spit it out.’

‘I just…,’ Bucky started, and then looked down at the floor.

‘You regret it?’

‘No!’

‘Well I don’t care.’

‘Steve-’

But Steve was already turning back to the door. He could hear Bucky moving after him and so hurried his pace, reaching the stairs before Bucky got to the door.

‘Are ya still coming to Ma’s!’ He heard Bucky call down at him.

‘Yes!’ he yelled and thumped his way to the bottom of the stairs, brushing a hand across his still burning cheeks and closing his eyes when he was on the street and the cool air could reach his skin. He wasn’t surprised. He couldn’t be upset when he wasn’t surprised.

Mrs Rabonovitz was still at the counter when he got back. She looked up at him when he entered and smiled in a peculiar sort of way.

‘Sorry Mrs Rabonovitz I-’ But she held her hand up.

‘Not a worry Steven,’ she said and chuckled before turning away. Steve did not know what it meant, the look she had given him. He swallowed and went back to his work.

 

Bucky could feel the hot tears ready to spill down his cheeks and he quickly wiped them away and sniffed rather violently. He nodded to himself, frowning, and then ran to the window. Down below he could see Steve and his little blonde head and his little bony shoulders. He had stopped in the middle of the street and had turned his face upwards so that the sun was shining across his skin. He looked like he was glowing.

Bucky turned from the window and leaned against the glass, huffing. He went to the table and sank into a seat, resting his arms on the table-top and tapping his feet. Last night. Last night. Oh, last night.

Last night he had kissed Steve Rogers. Before, even just the thought of it had felt like contemplating jumping off of a cliff. Being near Steve had felt that way for a while, that feeling you get to jump, knowing that you never really would. And then suddenly he had just done it. He’d just leaned over while Steve was laughing at something he had said, and then he’d just done it. Steve had gasped against his mouth and had gone very still. And now Bucky was questioning everything that happened after that. For starters, had it really happened, because it seemed completely ridiculous, like an honest to God dream come true. And second, did Steve really mean it, was he just shocked, and in fact did he even kiss back really or was that just Bucky’s wishful thinking. Had that really been Steve’s hand on his waist, had that really been Steve’s cold nose against his cheek. And then maybe, for their friendship and because Steve was so good, Steve had just not said anything and would never say anything about it and would just keep his regrets to himself. Hell.

And in a few hours they would be sitting across from each other at his Ma’s dinnertable. Bucky thunked his head down against the table top and squeezed his eyes shut.

When the light had slipped down across the walls of the little apartment and had begun to turn orange, Bucky got up and tried to freshen himself up. He put on a new jacket and scrubbed his face, then set to work on his messy hair. When he was done, he surveyed himself in the mirror. His eyes looked red. He looked tired. He slumped down onto his bed, which was on the left side of the sink, and sighed. Then he got himself up and rushed to the door before he could get into one of his states where he couldn’t move for days from misery.

The air was cold that night. Bucky wondered if Steve had a jacket at the Rabonovitzes. He hadn’t had one on when he had come marching into the apartment. Bucky shoved his hands into his pockets. He looked up and saw a balloon bobbing high in the sky, watched it twirl and move with the wind. Back on the ground a group of children were sitting on the steps up to a tenement building and rolling marbles to each other. Their clothes were mucky and torn and they had scrapes on their knees. One of the marbles slipped out of a little girl’s hands and went rolling down the pavement. A young boy jumped up from his perch and went running after it, before returning and placing it gently into the girl’s hand with a roguish smile on his lips.

Bucky rounded Acre Street and slowed his pace. He could already see his family home and the flickering light of a candle that somebody must have placed on the dinnertable. He wondered if Steve was already there, if he was spilling the beans to Rebecca, or even Ma, if they would look at Bucky with cold, distrustful eyes now. He shook the thought away. Steve would never do that, he wasn’t like that. But Bucky would understand, really, if he had.

 

The Barneses lived in a modest, two bedroom house, purchased on the goodwill of the US Navy. Compared to the tiny hovel that Steve and Bucky lived in, and made the best of, it was practically palatial. The walls were decorated with elegant green wallpaper that had lilies twirling around each other and looked like shimmering emeralds whenever the light hit them in the right way. They had a dining room, though it was, technically, in the kitchen, and that opened onto a seating area where the family would listen to the wireless together when Mrs Barnes had finally relented on her absolute certainty that wireless radio waves knocked birds out of the sky. Bucky and Steve had two rooms in their apartment, very small rooms mind, and even so they were still lucky. A lot of buildings such as the one they were living in only had one room, with a whole family squashed in like sardines. Unlike those poor folk, they had a kitchen that was just large enough to fit a table and two chairs inside, and then a bedroom big enough for two beds that were separated by a sink to wash themselves up in. The bath and the lav was down the hall. The real downside to the whole thing, if not the only downside really, because the pair were not ones for complaining, was that it got cold. Real cold. They lit the stove when it got like that, and of course Bucky slept nearest the window so that Steve wouldn’t get the full brunt of the cold air slipping through the seams.

Much to the disappointment of Rebecca and Mrs Barnes, Bucky didn’t always come for Saturday dinner, instead choosing to go gallivanting about town, dancing with girls and getting into trouble, or having dinner with Steve in what Mrs Barnes considered a pitiful excuse for a kitchen. So these particular Sundays were very special and Mrs Barnes was happy that little Steve Rogers came along as well. The poor boy hadn’t grown much since childhood and goodness knows he needed feeding. Now that Mrs Rogers was gone, may she rest in peace, Mrs Barnes had often thought that it might be a danger for Bucky to have such a close friend as Steve. To look at, the poor darling was stick thin, absolutely titchy, and not only was he sickly all the time, but he was always getting into fights. It wasn’t that Mrs Barnes thought that Steve was a bad influence on her James because she knew very well what her son got up to, especially when violence against Steve was involved, and really her silly son was responsible for his own actions – of which there seemed a lot of if the rumours of the broken hearts of every girl in Brooklyn were anything to go by - it was just that Steve did not seem long for this world and Mrs Barnes was worried that it would break her son’s own heart to see the boy go. In any case, she ushered Steve in through the hallway and into the kitchen where Rebecca had laid out the place settings and cutlery for dinner.

‘Steve,’ Rebecca said, red cheeked and glinty eyed as she always got with Steve, though she was a full two inches taller than him now, and a good seven years younger. 

‘Why don’t you sit here?’ She pulled out a chair for him and he thanked her. She turned and went back into the kitchen, wiping her hands nervously on her dress.

Just then, the doorbell rang and Mrs Barnes went to answer the door. As soon as she clapped eyes on her son she knew that something was wrong. He looked sick with nerves, eyebrows drawn up, and wringing his hands, the ends of his jacket caught up between his wrists.

‘Goodness me,’ she said, and tugged him into a hug. She heard a small sound escape his lips, but when she pulled away his face had changed. Nothing was there anymore, just a thin lipped smile and lightless eyes. ‘What’s happened,’ she demanded.

‘Nothing Ma,’ he said, sounding confused. Her boy was good at lying. He had always been so secretive. He kissed her cheek and then put his hand on the small of her back, leading her through the narrow hallway and into the kitchen. He stopped at the threshold and stared across the table at Steve who was fiddling with his napkin. The light returned to Bucky’s eyes and some of the colour returned to his cheeks, but the smile had vanished. 

‘Bucky!’ Rebecca said. She was about to rush over to him, then stopped. ‘Wait, why didn’t you two come together?’

‘Steve had to work late and-’

‘I had to do a thing so-’

Silence fell. Mrs Barnes and Rebecca shared a look.

‘Okay, well sit down,’ Mrs Barnes said to Bucky and ushered him into the chair opposite Steve. Bucky cleared his throat and then rested his balled up hands in his lap. Mrs Barnes turned to bring out the chicken from the kitchen – this one had been free after Rebecca had helped Bertha Brennan and the twins with packing up for their move to Long Island – and Rebecca followed her.

‘Is something the matter do you think,’ she whispered.

‘Looks like,’ said Mrs Barnes. She laid the chicken out in the middle of the table and then took the potatoes and vegetables from Rebecca. She could see, to her dismay, that Steve and Bucky’s eyes had lit up at the food. She had long suspected them of not being able to feed themselves on the money that they made and this was proof. Clearly they had not been eating. But this was Saturday dinner, so she held her tongue and vowed to bring it up another time.   
Rebecca sat herself down next to Steve and took a calming, hopefully unnoticeable, breath. She had made a promise to Bucky, long ago, that she would not marry Steve, but it was now getting very hard to want to keep that promise.

‘Steve, do you want some carrots?’ she said, ready with the ladle.

‘Thanks Becca,’ he said, and she scooped a generous portion out for him. He immediately dug in, resting his arm on the table cloth and hunching over. He had such delicate hands, artist’s hands. They looked like they would be baby soft to touch. A cough brought her attention away from them. Her mother was looking at her. Rebecca did not have the strength to feel embarrassed about it. She was too overcome. He was right next to her. She could feel the warmth of his closeness against her side.

‘How was work dear,’ her mother said, ‘is Mrs Rabonivitz doing alright?’

‘Hm?’ Steve glanced up from his food. ‘Oh, yes. She’s alright.’

‘I know she can be a bit of a grump,’ said her mother, tearing off a piece of bread to mop up her gravy.

‘Oh no,’ Steve said, then paused, glancing up at Bucky. ‘She’s just honest.’ Rebecca watched her brother’s eyes widen and the blood disappear from his cheeks.

‘Oh she’s incredibly blunt,’ her mother agreed, leaning over her plate to nod her head. ‘She once told me that her son was a worthless good for nothing. I mean, maybe you’d think such a thing, but you’d never say it, not about your own son and to a perfect stranger.’

Her brother was looking positively green now.

‘Are you alright Bucky?’ Rebecca said.

‘Uh,’

‘Ma wasn’t saying you were a worthless good for nothing, if that’s why you look so ill.’

‘Oh,’ he said and then laughed.

‘Oh!’ gasped Mrs Barnes. ‘Never! Goodness me, boy. You’re the greatest son a mother could ask for.’

‘Ma.’

‘Never even think it. You’re an angel sent from heaven. You’re everything a-’

‘Okay Ma, that’s just fine.’

He glanced up when Steve started laughing. When Steve met his eyes the laughing stopped. Steve tugged his eyebrows downwards and frowned. It was all very peculiar.

‘What on earth is going-’

‘How was your day Ma?’ Bucky interrupted. 

‘Oh just fine, just fine. I did a lot of cleaning, and then helped Father O’Reilly with the newsletters. Mrs Fitch is expecting another baby soon so I helped her with organising her living room for the birth.’

Rebecca snuck a glance at Steve. As she had heard it, he had been present for her birth. He and Bucky had been hiding behind a curtain and Mrs Rogers had pulled Rebecca out of her Ma and into the world. Steve had been in her life since the moment she was born, was there anything more romantic?

Steve was practically inhaling his food. He looked as if he would drop his cutlery soon and just use his hands, not like her brother who was oh so perfect with his knife and fork. 

Bucky had been taught to do this by his father, using a knife and fork in a proper way. His father had thought it of the utmost importance to have good table manners. He supposed for a working class, occasionally poverty stricken man, who had rose up when he had joined up with the US Navy and was then continually looked down upon for his class, it made a lot of sense that he would be so concerned with appearances. Though not so concerned that he had pulled his punches when beating Bucky across the head in the middle of the street, or hadn’t got roaring drunk and set fire to the kitchen, or had stopped his tongue when hurling insults at Bucky’s mother. That wasn’t really him, Bucky knew. He’d loved his father, and on good days Bucky’s father had loved him in return. He had gently placed Bucky’s hand on the knife and then patted his elbow, reminding him to keep it down. He had smiled and said, ‘Good job, kiddo.’ Bucky missed him.

He glanced up at Steve who was now listening intently to some long story Rebecca was telling. She kept tripping over her words and chuckling.

‘-and then Marty McDonagh got his finger stuck and everybody knew that it had been him.’

Steve laughed, a little uncertain going by the way his eyebrow twitched. Bucky snorted and took another bite of chicken. This dinner felt like it was lasting forever. He was glad of it. Soon Steve would be inescapable. But it was confusing. When Steve had come marching in, he had seemed upset with Bucky, which Bucky had expected, but then he had said ‘You regret it?’ Could that possibly mean that…but it was too dangerous to think it. One thing that was for certain was that Steve was absolutely furious with him now. He looked fit to burst, like his ears would start screeching like a kettle and steam would pour out. He wished he could telepathically tell Steve he was sorry, without the inevitable questions that would follow from his Ma and sister.

‘So Steve,’ his mother piped up, ‘I know my son has been breaking hearts all over Brooklyn but what about you?’

Rebecca gasped and suddenly looked very ill. Bucky would have thought about that had his brain not suddenly started screaming in his skull.

‘Uh,’ Bucky said, and Steve shot him a funny look.

‘Not really, Mrs Barnes,’ Steve answered.

‘Oh, why’s that? There are a lot of lovely girls out there who would be lucky to have you, I’m sure.’

‘Ma come on-’

‘Ma!’ Rebecca shouted.

‘What? Goodness me,’ said his Ma. ‘Excuse me for making conversation.’ Then her eyes flickered up to Steve and she gave the impression that she was waiting for an answer. Steve stared at her and Bucky felt a chill in his bones when Steve’s expression shifted to that familiar face, the one he always got when he was gearing up for a fight.

‘There is somebody,’ he said, and Bucky thought he was actually going to die. He was going to fall through the floor and turn into a pile of dust. ‘But they’re not…’

‘Not what, dear?’

‘They’re not interested.’

Bucky felt like he’d been punched on the chest. He started to choke.

‘Oh I’m sure that’s not…oh for Goodness sake Bucky,’ his Ma said, and started patting him hard on the back. ‘Steve,’ she said, once he had stopped. ‘How can you be sure she isn’t interested? Have you told her your feelings?’

‘Well I made them pretty obvious and I thought that it was…reciprocated. But now I think…I know I made a mistake.’

‘The Hell you did!’ Bucky yelled. Steve and Rebecca jumped in their seats and his mother turned to him and smacked him lightly on the back of the head.

‘What the heck’s gotten into you, boy? Dear me, I don’t know. How did I raise such a silly son,’ she tutted and stood up. ‘Rebecca, come help me with dessert.’

Steve looked at him. Bucky looked at Steve. Slowly they stood up and began to clear the plates away, one by one, and all the while glancing at each other. 

 

The air had cooled and Steve tried his best not to shiver as he and Bucky moved silently through the streets. The stars were out, visible through the steam of the city, and blinking down at them. People were sitting out on their balconies, legs hanging down and swaying, enjoying the last of what was left of the warmth before winter came and swallowed it all up. Soon the roads would be thick with snow. Steve would be bundled up and waited on hand and foot by an anxious Bucky. He hated winter, he hated that.

The back of Bucky’s hand grazed his. He could feel the hairs tickling his wrist, then disappear when Bucky moved. He knew that they were headed for something. He didn’t know what was going to happen. He wondered if it would be better if nothing happened. If it would be better if they just forgot the whole thing. He hadn’t given it much thought, no thought at all really, until Bucky had leaned over and kissed him. But it hadn’t seemed like a surprise, either. It seemed sort of normal, like they had done it before. He had thought that Bucky’s silence afterwards and the impenetrable looks he had gotten in the morning had meant that Bucky believed he had made a mistake. He had just stopped, stood up, and went to their bedroom. He hadn’t said a word about it since. 

They made their way up the stairs to their apartment and Steve waited as Bucky fiddled with the lock. He felt like shouting, and talking non-stop, and hurling things. But this time, he thought, he was going to let Bucky speak. It wasn’t fair, even if he didn’t want to hear it, to close his ears and run away from it like that. Running away wasn’t really his style, anyway. 

Bucky walked into the kitchen and then stopped. He knocked his knuckles against the table-top, then turned so that he was looking at Steve dead on.

‘I don’t regret it one bit. I thought that you did, or that you would. And I really... I was scared of what you’d say. I thought I shouldn’t have done it…I don’t know what I should be…I…’

Bucky walked towards him until he was close enough to touch.

‘I wanted to,’ he whispered.

‘Me too,’ Steve said. He reached upwards and tugged on Bucky’s collar until Bucky leaned down. Bucky’s lips were very soft and very warm.

‘Okay,’ he said, when Steve let go. He wrapped his arms around Steve’s waist and laughed a joyful, Bucky laugh, before leaning in once more.

**Author's Note:**

> Ever think about how the Barnes family lived their lives believing Steve and Bucky died in the war? The thought entered my head the other day and it felt like I'd been stabbed in the heart...


End file.
